Your Love Is King
by Numbatstuff
Summary: This story is set the morning after "Coming Home" and ships Marke & Isolde. It is rated M for a reason, so please be warned. "My only wish is to make you happy. As a wife. As a woman."


My previous T&I story, "Coming Home" started out as a one shot, however I've decided to make it the first in a three part series. And so this story is part two, and takes place the morning after their reunion.

I love the possibilities of the "waking up in the morning" story both in terms of a little, um, romance and also the intimate conversations that people have in the privacy of their bedrooms. And so I decided that this second story would be a little less intense than the first and would focus on Marke & Isolde simply spending time together - which isn't that easy when you're the king & queen. I wanted to have a look at their characters away from the heavy drama of the movie to see their sense of humour and their humanness.

I also very, very much wanted to explore that most erotic of lines delivered by Marke to Isolde on their wedding night "My only wish is to make you happy. As a wife. As a woman." And although I have a feeling he managed to do that more than adequately in "Coming Home," I thought he probably had a little more up his sleeve – apart from a wooden hand! (and as it turned out, Isolde had a little more up her sleeve as well...)

So please be warned, this is a story set _entirely_ in bed and so it's rated M for a very good reason.

And because I'm going for a slightly lighter, romantic feel here, I couldn't go past this song for the soundtrack or for the title of this story.

Soundtrack: Your Love Is King - Sade

Your love is king,  
Crown you in my heart.  
Your love is king.  
You're the ruler of my heart.  
Your kisses ring,  
round and round and round my head.  
Touching the very part of me.  
It's making my soul sing.  
I'm crying out for more.  
Your love is king.

I'm coming up, I'm coming.  
You're making me dance, inside.

…

As he dragged himself unwillingly from the seductive world of sleep, he felt her stir in his arms. Not wanting to open his eyes and break the spell of the peaceful night they had spent together, Marke inhaled deeply the lavender scent of her hair and luxuriated in the feeling of the bare warm skin of her back and buttocks pressed against his naked body. He wrapped his arm around her swollen belly and pulled her closer into him.

He was still not completely convinced that he wasn't just dreaming, and so forced himself to open one eye to check that his surrounds were as they should be.

The sun was streaming through the small stone windows of the bedchamber, across the floor and up over the foot of his, their, bed. He could see his robes in a pile by the side of the bed where he had discarded them, and hers in the antechamber where he had stripped them off her the previous night.

The fire had died down and the room was chilly with morning.

Satisfied that all was in order, his gaze fell upon the side of the face of the woman in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her long fair lashes spread out on her cheeks, and her soft lips were slightly parted, her breathing gentle and even. She looked at peace.

He could hardly believe that she was really here once more, in his arms, in his bed, her belly full with his child.

He was heavy and hard with desire for her as he had been all night, and he longed to kiss those soft lips, taste her mouth again. But he knew she needed to rest. He could see that it wouldn't be long until the baby was born, that living in the forest these past months had begun to take it's toll on her.

She was still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever in his gaze, but he could see that there were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale from the strain of growing the child. Apart from her breasts and her belly, she was thinner than he remembered, as though the baby was draining her to grow himself.

He closed his eyes again to try and still his gaze. Tried to drift back to sleep, but his mind was anxious with thoughts of her. Unable to resist the feel of her skin but not wanting to wake her, he ran his fingers delicately down the side of her body tracing the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, the rise of her hip. She was exquisite.

His mind wandered with erotic memories and he smiled to himself. He remembered that when his first wife had been with child, that they would often lie together like this. She and the baby lost their lives at Tantallon before she had been as large as Isolde was now, but she had liked him to make love to her in the mornings, slowly and gently as they lay wrapped together, as he held her by the hips and kissed the back of her neck.

He remembered her fondly. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, shortly before the death of his father, and so they had never loved each other with the passion of true lovers. But she was an attractive woman, a genuine person and their marriage had been happy. And they had both enjoyed their physical relationship, enjoyed comfort in each other's arms as a refuge from the often relenting harshness of their lives. She was not afraid to express herself and had taught him that lovemaking was not just sex, had taught him the pleasure of touch and taste and feel.

Isolde stirred a little, moved her body against his, and his groin pulsed with the anticipation of making love to her again, of being buried deep inside her, of feeling the warm, moist, heat of her body around him. He moved closer into her, gently brushed the side of her face with his lips.

She murmured his name sleepily.

"I'm here Isolde," he whispered to her, running his hand gently over her belly.

She stretched slightly, pushing her bottom into him.

"Mmmmm, I think I could sleep forever," she said drowsily. "I feel so safe with you Marke."

"You are safe my love. No harm will come to you within these walls. No harm will come to you within my arms."

"I love you so much," she murmured.

He kissed the side of her neck gently. "And I love you Isolde."

She reached her hand behind her and touched his skin, ran her fingers down his side, across his hip to the top of his thigh. He shivered as her fingers brushed perilously close to his erection.

She pressed herself backwards into him and he knew she could feel his arousal hard up against her back. She was asking for him and he drew breath.

"Show me, show me of your love my lord," she whispered.

"Isolde…"

"Please Marke."

He needed no further invitation and buried his face into the side of her neck kissing her, nibbling her skin, caressing her breast gently with his hand. She angled her hips slightly to allow him access and he slipped into her slowly. She was warm and compliant and he felt so completely at one with her it was as though they had never been parted.

They made love slowly and silently, neither needing to speak, but both desperately needing the quiet reassurance of this pleasure. To prove that the previous night had not just been about lust. To reconfirm their love.

He slowly kissed a trail up her neck to her ear and licked her earlobe, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine to her groin. She placed her hand over his where it rested on her breast and moved it lower over the swell of her belly to her groin. The brazen nature of her request intensified his passion and he thrust into her harder, slipping his finger between her folds, feeling the slickness of her desire.

"I need to be deeper," he whispered and she angled back into him, pushing into his long slow thrusts again and again.

There was a gentle knock on the door. "Oh god, not now" he groaned quietly to her, "I need to make love to my wife, I don't need to talk to anyone."

He stilled his movements, moved his hand to her hip and held her close into him under the blankets. He was still buried inside her.

"Enter," he called.

The door opened tentatively and one of Marke's personal staff entered the room with a tray of food. "Lady Ethyl ordered breakfast to be brought to you sire," he said, placing the tray down on the small table by the bed.

"Thankyou Tomas," Marke replied, gritting his teeth.

"Is there anything else I can get you, sire?"

He hesitated. "Um, could you build the fire for me please. It's almost died down and I don't want the queen to get cold."

"Quite so sire," Tomas replied. He busied himself at the fireplace and Isolde turned her head to Marke, frowned.

With the servants back turned, he took the opportunity to resume his thrusts, using the muscles of his buttocks to push himself deeper but careful to not make any large movements which could be noticed.

"Marke, we can't," she mouthed to him silently.

"Sssssh," he whispered. "I can't wait for him to leave. I can't stop, you feel too good."

"But he'll know."

"No he won't," he murmured quietly. "And anyhow, I think you forget that I am the king. If I want to undress you in the marketplace and fuck you right there, then I shall do so."

"Marke!" She was shocked by his use of vulgar language and the provocative nature of what he was suggesting. She had heard enough vulgarity while she had been in hiding with Bragnae, but had never heard him talk in such a way.

Her head still turned towards him, she looked at him in shock and he winked.

"Aaaah, I see the thought excites you," he murmured, narrowing his eyes.

"Marke!"

"How about this, does this excite you," he whispered, moving his hand from her hip back to between her thighs, and gently stroking her sensitive nerves with the tip of one long finger.

She gasped, "No!"

"I don't think you really mean no," he whispered throatily, continuing to caress her. "I think you like me touching you"

"I… I do," she gasped, "but …"

"Sssssh," he murmured, "just relax" He quietly started kissing her neck again, running the tip of his tongue gently up behind her ear.

She knew he was going to get his way. His hips pressing up against her buttocks, his lips and tongue on her neck, his cock buried deep inside her, his finger stroking between her thighs and the intrigue of having the servant in the room, all conspired to bring her to a slow, shuddering orgasm.

He felt her climax, her muscles contracting around him, sucking him deeper into her. "Quietly" he whispered as she gasped and dug her fingernails desperately into his arm.

He held her tightly, breathing heavily into her ear as she calmed. "Ssssh," he murmured, "I have you."

"Ahem…." The servant cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me sire, the fire is complete." He got to his feet and turned slowly away from the blazing hearth, until he was facing the door. He kept his eyes downcast.

"Thankyou Tomas. That will do very well."

"Is there is anything else you require my lord?"

"There is one thing. Can you take a message to Lady Ethyl for me?"

"Yes sire."

"Look at me, Tomas." The servant raised his pale blue eyes and looked into the kings green gaze.

"Can you tell her that all is well," Tomas nodded. "And can you tell her that we are not to be disturbed for the rest of the morning. Ask her to come and take her midday meal with me in the dining chamber. I wish to talk to her then."

"Yes sire."

"That is all. You may go."

"Thankyou sire."

He bowed slightly and taking his leave, made his way to the door.

As he opened it to leave the room, Marke spoke again.

"Tomas?"

He turned and looked once more into the King's gaze.

Marke raised his eyebrows.

The servant nodded and the shadow of a smile danced across his face.

He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

Isolde turned her head to look into his face.

"He knew didn't he?"

"Of course he did," Marke smiled.

"But…"

"But what? Tomas has been with me for many years. He will be discreet. But it matters not if he tells. It is important for the people to know that you are returned to me as my queen and as my wife. That our relationship is strong."

"Do you think he knows you made me…?"

"Of course he does," he laughed "you weren't really very quiet." He ran his hand back down to her hip and moved inside her, buried his face in the side of her neck, nipping gently at her skin.

"I'm very impressed sire," she murmured.

"At what," he replied, resuming his thrusting, more strongly this time.

"I'm impressed that you have maintained your arousal this whole time."

"Isolde, you will soon learn that my arousal is not easily discouraged," his voice was rough with desire.

"Marke," she murmured as he gripped her tightly and increased the depth and intensity of his thrusts, "I would never discourage such passion. It is your passion that I love."

He didn't reply, instead using his mouth to lick a path from her shoulder up to her ear lobe, breathing heavily.

His breath was hot and intense and his gasps in her ear were almost enough to make her climax again.

"I love you," my king she whispered as he groaned his imminent release. "Loud," she said, "I love that you're loud."

And as the fire raced through his veins and exploded inside her with the intense force of his passion, he was as loud as ever. "Isolde" he roared, "my Isolde."

…

As they lay together, his hand languidly running the length of her body, his finger tracing a path on her skin, she sighed.

She placed her hand over his to still it and played with his long fingers. His other arm was behind her, in between their bodies.

She lifted up her shoulder, "put your other arm under me so I can be closer to you," she whispered.

He hesitated, she knew he didn't want to extend his damaged limb.

"Marke, do as I say," she said. "It's what I want."

He pulled his arm from between their bodies and slipped it under her neck so it was extended out across the bed. She wriggled back into him so she was nestled into his chest, "there, that's better."

With her left hand occupied, gently tinkering with the fingers of his hand, she bent her other arm upwards and began running her fingers along the strong muscles of his right arm, toying with the soft, dark hair. He tensed.

When her fingers reached the blunt end of his arm, where his hand should have been, she felt the mass of scar tissue. It was rigid and uneven, the skin smooth compared to the hair of his arm, and she could feel the blunt end of the bone under the skin.

He winced.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked gently.

"It aches sometimes," he admitted "but your touch doesn't hurt me."

"Why do you flinch then?"

"No one has touched it since it was healed," he said quietly. He paused, "does it not disgust you?"

"Not at all," she said gently. "It is a part of you just as much as these fingers are." She squeezed the fingers of his left hand.

"The only feeling I have is that of sadness that this should have happened to you. Your fingers are so beautiful. Expressive and sensual. It is sad that they should have been taken away from you."

He was silent.

"You were lucky to survive such an injury though. It must have taken many months to heal. You are a brave man to have survived the pain."

He shrugged slightly. "Pain is just a challenge like all others. Sometimes life is nothing but pain. To give in to pain is to give up on life."

She leaned her head forward and kissed his arm. "This is the arm of a strong man. Of a man who has survived the very worst that life has thrown at him and yet rules his people with strength and compassion. I don't think you should hide it, Marke. It is your badge of courage and you should be proud of what it demonstrates. You received this injury saving the life of a child. What nobler purpose is there than that?"

He sighed.

She knew he was thinking of Tristan.

"I told him that I regretted the day that I extended this arm to save him. But I said it in anger. And now I can't take it back."

"You don't need to take it back Marke. He loved you. He knew."

"Maybe," he said quietly. "But I'll always regret saying it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. He knew you spoke from anger. Your actions were what mattered to him not your words."

He was silent for a while.

"Anyhow," he sighed, "you must be hungry." He gently pulled his arm out from under her, sat up and retrieved the tray of food from beside the bed, placing it between them. He poured her some wine and handed her a plate from the tray. "Please help yourself. You need to build up your strength. You look thin Isolde, so I want to see you eat well."

She took some cold chicken and some bread, a little dried fruit and some cheese, a hard boiled egg.

He laughed. "I think Ethyl was having a little joke including these on the tray," he motioned to the unpeeled eggs. "She knows this is one thing that I cannot do."

Isolde smiled, "do you think this is her way of telling me that I must stay? That you need me."

He laughed. "I think it probably is."

He looked at her, reached over and touched her face gently.

"I do need you Isolde. And not just to peel an egg for me. My heart needs you to stay."

"And my heart needs to stay," she replied gently.

…

After they had eaten their fill and Marke had fed her some extra fruit and some nuts even though she said she was full, Isolde cleared away the tray and they lay together talking.

"Put your hand here." She moved his hand up to the top of her belly hard up under her ribs. He could feel a small hard bulge and as he rested his hand gently on it, he felt it move inwards and then kick out again.

"Do you see why I know he's a boy?" she whispered. "He does this all the time. Kicks and wriggles and punches."

He shook his head in amazement. "Does he hurt you?"

"Not really. My back aches and my joints feel liked they're being stretched, but it doesn't hurt when he kicks. Our son is a strong little boy, like his father."

"Your skin is tight. Like a drum," he murmured. "Here, let me do something for you." He slipped quickly out of the bed and walked over to the sideboard, opened the doors of the small apothecary cabinet that sat on top and rifled through the assortment of bottles and jars.

As he stood in front of the cabinet with his back to her, she took the opportunity to admire the view of his naked body and ran her eyes down him appreciatively. From his short cropped black hair, strong neck, broad shoulders and muscular back, down to his firm strong buttocks, powerful thighs and long, muscular legs.

She smiled a little to herself. She wondered if he knew she was admiring him.

He selected a couple of bottles and turned back to her, surprised to find her eyes on him.

"Um…"

Her eyes openly fell to his groin and he raised his eyebrows at her. "I think the queen should not be so brazen."

She smiled coyly. "If the king does not wish the queen to admire his fine attributes, he should be a little more modest in his choice of clothing."

He nodded. "Quite so, however the queen could make an effort to look at the king's face when she speaks to him."

She laughed.

He slipped back into bed next to her, smiling.

"Would you allow me to rub some oils into your belly. My first wife would do so every night. She said it helped the skin to remain supple and reduced the discomfort."

"Yes sire, that would be nice," she replied, "I have not had the benefit of such luxuries over the past months."

He drew back the bedclothes, exposing her naked breasts and belly. He very much wanted to drip the oils onto her large nipples, but restrained himself. This was not about him and his desires, it was about relieving her discomfort.

He unstoppered the first bottle and slowly dripped a trail of oil along the middle of her belly. "This is lavender oil," he said as he watched the drops fall onto her skin. Then he unstoppered the other and drizzled a larger amount down and across it. "This is an unscented oil. I seem to recall that too much lavender can make your skin uncomfortable."

Putting both the bottles next to the side of the bed, he turned back to her and proceeded to run his hand slowly over her oily belly.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hand on her sensitive skin. "That feels nice Marke," she murmured. "I wish you could have done this for me every night."

"So do I," he replied gently. He looked at her sadly. "You never should have left Isolde. And even if you did, you should have returned when you discovered you were with child. You are my wife. I never would have punished you."

"I think I knew that in my heart Marke, but I didn't want to see the hurt in your eyes. It was guilt that really kept me away."

"Your life must have been horrendous though. How did you and Bragnae protect yourselves? How did you feed yourselves?"

She shrugged, "we made do. There are other people living in the forest so we tried to stay close by to others. And we did what we had to just to get by I suppose. At least it was summer so we generally weren't cold and found plenty of food growing, a rabbit here and there. I don't really want to talk about it now though," she said closing her eyes. "I just want to enjoy the glorious feel of your fingers on me."

"As you wish," he said quietly, "but please tell me one thing. Did you or Bragnae ever have any um, unwanted attention while you were in hiding. From men?"

"No, nothing like that. We were lucky, the groups of people we stumbled upon were all very kind to us. Protected us."

He drizzled a little more oil on her, stroked it gently into the tight skin of her belly. "Are you sure it's still another moon before he comes?" he asked. "He's so big already, and very active. It's hard to believe he can get much bigger without splitting your skin."

"I'd be happy for him to come soon," she replied tiredly. "Although if I'm able to lie here and have you rub oil into my belly every day, I think I may wish him never to be born."

He smiled, "I will do this for you every day, whether you are with child or not, if you will allow me." Unable to resist any longer though, he moved one slick hand up to her breast, "your belly is so tight, but your breasts are so soft," he whispered. He felt her nipple harden under his palm.

"Isolde," he murmured and leaned over to taste her lips.

They lay like this for a while, simply kissing, tasting each others mouths, touching each other's skin, gently, relaxed.

"I wish these hours could never end," he murmured. "But it is not for a king to spend all his time making love. I will have to go soon and attend to my duties."

"I think they can do without you for a few more hours," she replied sleepily. "You told Ethyl you would meet her at the midday meal. Stay with me until then. I think you too need to rest. Let us sleep a while longer."

"Mmmm," he murmured sensually, "you make a very convincing argument my queen. I shall stay a while longer."

Eventually they both drifted off to sleep in the warm room, relaxed and happy in each other's arms.

…

After what seemed like only a few minutes, but must have been an hour or two at least, Isolde woke quietly. The sun was higher in the sky but it was not quite midday by her judgement. He lay sprawled across the bed on his stomach, head turned to one side, snoring gently.

She smiled. It was good to see him so completely relaxed and at peace. She guessed it had been a very long time since he had felt this way.

She ran her hand gently across the broad expanse of his back. Felt the strong muscles under his skin. He had seemed relaxed, but she was surprised that even in his sleep, she could feel some knots of tension in his muscles. She reached over to where he had left the small bottles of oil and unstoppered the larger bottle of unscented oil.

He would need to wake soon and she thought it would be fitting for her to give her husband and king some attention, to try and relieve some of the knots of tension for him. She warmed the bottle between her hands and after she had taken the chill off of the oil, she drizzled it slowly across his back.

He stirred a little but didn't wake. She sat next to him and ran her hands through the oil up to his shoulders. Gently, she pressed her thumbs into the knots of tension until she felt them ease a little under her touch.

She felt him wake slowly, "Isolde," he murmured.

With the knots finally eased, she glided her hands openly across the expanse of his back enjoying the feel of his warm oily skin, the strength of his muscles. She ran her hands further downwards past his narrow waist, over the firm curve of his buttocks, the top of his thighs.

He murmured his pleasure at her touch. "You have wonderful hands," he whispered.

"And you have a wonderful body," she replied. "I love to touch you."

"Mmmmmm"

"Turn over," she whispered.

"Why?"

"So I can oil your chest and your belly."

His voice tightened a little, "no just my back. Your hands on my back are all I need."

"Please Marke, I want to feel the muscles of your chest."

"I can't turn over Isolde."

"Why?"

"Because, um…."

"What?"

"I'm…."

She smiled a little, "because you're hard," she whispered.

"Um, well…."

"Don't be embarrassed Marke." She lent over and whispered in his ear, "I love that I can rub your back and make you hard. I love that you desire me. Let me touch you."

He sighed, "Isolde, I…"

"Turn over Marke, let me feel your body."

Reluctantly, slowly, he turned until he was laying on his back.

She ran her eyes over him. "My king," she murmured

He reached down to pull up the bedclothes to cover his arousal but she stopped him. "No Marke," she whispered. "I want to see you."

"Isolde, you…"

"Ssssh," she put her finger to his lips. "It will soon be midday. Let us enjoy the time we have left before we have to be responsible again."

She unstoppered the bottle of oil and let it drizzle slowly onto the skin of his chest, ran the trail down his belly to his groin. He drew breath as the oil dripped on his erection.

With both hands, she spread the oil over his chest and his shoulders. He closed his eyes.

As she slowly massaged the oil into the hairy skin of his chest, she felt him relax under her hands. She thumbed his small nipples and felt them stiffen.

"Isolde," he whispered as her hands caressed him, "I'm worried."

"About what?" she replied quietly, as she ran her hands down the flat plane of his hairy belly.

"I'm worried about the baby being born."

"Do not worry so much Marke. You have the weight of D'or on your shoulders. Let me worry about the baby being born."

She drizzled a little more oil over the defined muscles of his hips, wrapped her hand around his thick erection, and he arched his back under her touch.

"How can I keep you safe?"

"You can't my lord, you just need to trust that god will keep me safe. I will be well attended."

She was enjoying the feel of his hardness in her hand. She had never touched him like this before and was entranced by the feel of his blood pulsing beneath her fingers, of the softness of his skin, the rigidity of his arousal.

"You will suffer," he gasped as she ran her hand up the length of him.

"I will suffer as all women do. But it will last only a short time and I will deliver us our precious son. And the pain will be forgotten until it is time for our next child to be born."

"Our… next… child?" He was finding the effort of speaking just too much.

"Ssssh," she whispered, "do not speak of this now. Trust that I will give you this son and many more children. Now is not the time to be worried about our future. Let us enjoy the present. Relax my king. Let me relax you."

She bent her head, touching his straining erection with her lips, breaking the bead sitting at his tip with her tongue and tasting the warm saltiness.

"No Isolde," he gasped, "you are the queen, you shouldn't…"

"But you are the king," she replied, "I want to taste you Marke, as you tasted me."

"Isolde," he groaned as she took him in her mouth. "It is not right for a queen to…"

She removed her mouth, looked up at him as she continued to stroke him with her hand. He arched into the bed as she ran her thumb over the head of him.

"I think it is not right for the king's seed to be spilt by my hand," she said firmly "I shall decide for myself what is right. The king must understand that there are some rules the queen shall make for herself."

She sank her mouth back down over him, sucking him strongly and cupping his heavy testicles in her hand.

He groaned, trying not to laugh. "I think that if... the queen feels so strongly then... the king has no choice but to accede to her… wishes."

She looked up at him coyly "you will make me happy sire if you accede to my wishes"

He struggled to continue the conversation "If… this is what makes you… happy my queen, then… I shall permit… you… to continue…"

There was a quiet tap at the door.

He growled in frustration, rubbed his hand across his eyes.

"What is it?" he called out, testily.

"Sire, it is past midday. The Lady Ethyl is awaiting your attendance in the dining chamber. May I come in and clear your breakfast tray?"

"No. No, Tomas," he replied sharply. "Tell my sister that I am slightly delayed. I will be with her shortly." She could hear the tension in his voice as he tried to hold himself together.

"Do you wish her to attend you in your chambers sire?"

"No, definitely not…. Definitely not Tomas. I will be there um… shortly."

"Very well my lord."

All the while he had been talking, Isolde continued with her head in his groin, tonguing and sucking him and he gripped the sheets desperately as he spoke to the servant, struggling not to climax in the middle of the conversation.

"Do you think he's gone?" he whispered raggedly.

"Yes my love," she murmured, "you can let go now."

She felt him melt into her touch, felt him sink deeply into the muscles of his groin and buttocks as he gave himself over to her, gave himself over to her mouth and her tongue and her lips.

"Isolde," he gasped.

She sucked him firmly and felt him tense. He wound his fingers in her hair and groaned gutturally, arching his back. He pulsed in her mouth and roared desperately, as he filled her with his taste. She swallowed him and he lay back, straining for breath.

"Let me hold you," he gasped, and she moved up into his arms, head on his chest. She could hear his heart thumping in his chest.

"Is the queen happy now," he whispered.

"Oh yes," she murmured, "the queen is most satisfied."

"I am glad," he smiled, looking down at her face. "You know my only wish is to make you happy."

She looked up at him and laughed, and the gentle chimes of her voice filled his heart with light.


End file.
